He laughs. “I’ll give you a pass this time.” He holds out his hand. “D’ante Williams.”
Gavin shakes his hand. I’m guessing from the look in Gavin’s eyes and the color of his knuckles when they shake that they’re doing that handshake/size-up-the-man thing. “Gavin Edwards, and this is Lily Clark.”
D’ante motions for us to sit. “Take a load off.”
We scoot into the booth seat across from him, and I gesture to the restaurant. “So do you have all of your meetings at Disneyland? Or is this a special occasion?”
He chuckles. “This is my special meeting place for three reasons. One, there’s no way a cop or Fed’s coming in here without us being able to spot ‘em a mile away. Some stiff in a suit sticks out in this place like a hooker in church. Two, there’s always some kid screaming or plates clanging. If someone’s trying to listen in, they won’t hear dick. And three, best damn waffles in the world.”
As if on cue, a screaming toddler bolts from her table and trips a server, who drops a tray of food. The toddler and three other kids at the table start crying hysterically.
D’ante smiles. “Case in point. Happens at least once every fifteen minutes.”
I pick up my menu. “Kinda genius.”
He takes my menu from my hand. “Waffles. Trust me.”
I hold up my hands. “All right, waffles it is.”
The server comes, and we all order the Mickey waffles.
Once she leaves, D’ante leans back in his chair. “I don’t typically take meetings like this, especially with people I don’t know. I like to keep myself insulated.”
Swallowing hard, I fold my hands in front of me. “I understand this is unorthodox, and I’m grateful you’re willing to hear us out.”
Gavin looks as though he’s ready to get down to business. “D’ante—”
“Nuh uh,” D’ante says, shaking his head. “Wait till those Frozen girls come out. The place goes nuts. That’s when we talk.”
What the hell do we do until then? I fiddle with my silverware, searching for a safe topic of conversation. I’m a trained journalist; simple brunch conversation shouldn’t be hard, yet this feels impossible. I can’t really ask him about his work. I’m curious about the financial aspect of it. I have to imagine he makes good money as the leader of a gang. Does he have to stay in Compton, where the gang’s name originates from? Maybe he has a run-down building that looks as though it’s condemned on the outside, but on this inside, it’s like something out of MTV Cribs. Or does he have a nice house in the ‘burbs but commutes in for work? If so, how does he reconcile that with the members? They have to spend the nights with bullets whizzing by their heads while he gets to sleep in a cushy split-level with a pool?
“How ‘bout them Dodgers?” is the best I can come up with.
He takes a sip of his orange juice. “Not really into baseball.” He points at Gavin. “You follow soccer? My kid’s obsessed with it, so I’m trying to figure it out. That shit ain’t half bad, you know?”
“Of course. Who’s his team?” Gavin replies.
D’ante smiles at me. “Not to be rude. I just figured between the two of you, the British guy’s more likely to watch soccer than the American chick.”
I cluck my tongue. “You got me there. I still can’t figure out the timing. They don’t stop the clock but add the time to the back end? It makes no sense to me. And all the freaking leagues? Who can tell which team plays for which league?”
Oh, thank God. He and Gavin can blather on about soccer, and I can quietly freak out until we can actually discuss what we came here to discuss. I hear Ronaldo this, Lewandowski that. By the time our waffles come, Gavin and D’ante seem like old pals, and the tension at the table has melted.
I cut into my waffle and take a bite. “Holy crap, these are good,” I say with my mouth full. “These are totally worth risking catching the measles for. Best waffles ever.”
D’ante points his fork at me. “Told you.”
“If I lived here, this would become my super-secret hangout too.”
D’ante pours syrup onto his waffles. “Get your own spot. I’ve got dibs on this one.”
I look at Gavin. “Where’s Euro-Disney? I can run my criminal enterprise from there.”
Gavin looks at me and laughs. “I thought the goal of this was to cut ties with your criminal enterprise. Now you’re looking for office space?”
I use my fork to point at my waffles. “Have you tried these yet? You might change your mind.”
D’ante makes an “X” with his hands. “Euro-Disney’s waffles are crap. Which doesn’t make sense—you’d think they’d follow the same recipe.”
“I think it has to do with the water. Isn’t that why they say New York pizza and bread are so much better?” I shove a piece of waffle into my mouth.
“Gio used to say it’s all the bodies in the East River. Adds nutrients.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m never eating in New York again.”
Moments later, high-pitched screeches erupt around the restaurant. I look around.
“Bloody hell?” Gavin points at the Disney characters moving around the room.
D’ante lays his silverware on the side of his plate. “That’s our cue.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that looks like a digital voice recorder, which catches me by surprise. He clicks a button on it. “Jammer. Don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” Gavin replies. “But the one I make is better.”
“Ah,” D’ante replies. “So you’re that Gavin Edwards. My guys looked into you, but I didn’t believe it. Posh men like you don’t usually come to my side of the tracks.”
“You know that’s not true,” Gavin replies. “The bulk of your consumer base isn’t the dime bags you sell on the corners; it’s the high-end lawyers who need to blow lines to get up in the morning, and actors and rock stars who would sell both kidneys to chase the dragon. I think you spend more time with ‘posh’ types than I do.”
“So we’ve both done our homework.” D’ante shifts in his seat then leans forward. “I get that you had some connection with Lorenzo, and Gio seems to trust you, which is all well and good. But the thing is, I don’t know you. You don’t stay alive as long as I have by getting into bed with people you don’t know. So you’ve got five minutes to convince me I should take this meeting to the next level, or we can just go back to eating our waffles then go our separate ways.”
Gavin opens his mouth to respond, but I put my hand on his forearm to stop him. “Most people who come to you want something from you, and I’m no different. I need your help. But unlike everyone else who comes knocking on your door, I’m not looking for power, or money, or drugs, or protection, or even help improving my social standing. I’m not looking to be part of your entourage or your competition. I simply need your help to get out from under the cartel. It’s a fairly elaborate plan with minimal risk on your part. Admittedly there’s nothing for you to gain, but the flip side is, all you have to do is make a phone call.”
“If I get nothing out of this, then why should I do it at all?”
“Because a bunch of people are being held hostage in a dungeon, waiting to be sold as slaves, and if you help me, they’ll be set free and returned to their families,” I say. “Because a little boy was kidnapped so he could be used as leverage to get to me. He’s an innocent and deserves the chance at a life.”
He moves his finger back and forth between Gavin and me. “Yours?”
I shake my head. “My late husband and his dead hooker girlfriend’s. The poor kid didn’t ask to be born into this, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve whatever they have planned for him.” I lean forward on my elbows. “I know there’s nothing for you to get out of this other than helping a bunch of people who will never know you were the one who made it possible for them to be free. You won’t get a thank you card or your name in the paper as the big hero, but—”
“I don’t need a fucking parade to do th
e right thing by people.”
“Good,” I reply. “Because when this is done, no one’s making a float with your face on it.”
“How’d you get on the cartel’s bad side?” D’ante asks.
“That’s a long story.” I nod toward the singing Disney characters. “Longer than this show anyway. I’ll say this—my husband died unexpectedly, and I’ve been cleaning up his mess.”
“Well, here’s my next problem. Seems like people who work with you have a tendency to wind up dead.”
I shrug. “Don’t blame the player, blame the game.”
He laughs. “You’ve been listening to too much gangster rap.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Yes, many people have died because of their involvement in this mess. I may carry guilt and remorse for their deaths, but I didn’t kill them. The cartel killed them. This life killed them. The twisted code that allows for murder for the sake of pride and some distorted form of honor killed them. The violence disgusts me, and I’ll do anything to get out of this bloody business, including sit down for waffles with one of the most dangerous men in the world in hopes that in lieu of killing me for disrespecting him, he might be kind enough to help me.”
He scratches his chin as he takes in what I’ve said. “So you’re Dorothy stuck in Oz and I’m the Wizard who has to help you get back to Kansas, huh?”
I smirk. “There’s no place like home. Look, you have no reason to trust me. But then again, you have no reason not to trust me either. There is no upside to me selling you out or stabbing you in the back. I already have one set of savage killers after me. I really don’t need another.”
He leans back and scratches his neck. “So this crew that’s after you is the same one that got Lorenzo?”
I nod. “Yes, as payback for helping me.”
“Have you worked with them in the past?” Gavin asks.
D’ante taps his fingers on the table as though he’s trying to decide how he wants to answer. “I’ll say this—they’ll answer if I call. How’s that?”
Gavin pauses, probably considering D’ante’s answer. “Would you be willing to place a large order with them?”
“Why don’t you spell out your plan for me first,” D’ante replies, looking wary.
I quickly explain all the moving parts to the plan. I use the extra utensils, salt shakers, and sugar packets as visual aids. “So as you can see, your call is the catalyst to put the whole thing in motion, and you being you provides the additional incentive. Rafa will know that he needs to deliver or you’ll be kind enough to separate his head from his neck, thus he’ll be highly motivated to go along with the plan. I need his fear of you to be stronger than his desire to kill me.”
D’ante takes another bite of his waffle. The look on his face tells me he’s taking this all in and crafting a careful response. “Why bring the Feds in at all? From what I can tell, you’re taking Morelia apart piece by piece. Why not just cut off the snake’s head and be done with it?”
Looking away, I fiddle with the napkin in my lap. “The only way to do that is to kill every last one of them, and I just can’t take any more death. For me to be able to live with myself, I need to at least try to go about it the right way.”
He looks down and snorts. “Going about it the right way using dirty agents?”
“We don’t have a lot of choice in the matter,” Gavin responds. “There’s enough evidence to put Morelia away for a hundred lifetimes, but because of the agents they have on their payroll, any case is over before it begins. Gio’s agents have financial incentive to move forward regardless of the pushback they may get.”
I take a sip of my orange juice. “We can’t all go to prom with the quarterback, you know? Sometimes you’ve got to settle for the skinny dweeb with bad teeth who has yet to discover the wonders of deodorant, just so you can go the party.”
He rests his fork and knife on the side of his plate. “If word gets out I was involved in this shit… something tied to the Feds? I’ll be on ice faster than you could say drive-by.”
I touch his forearm, hoping to settle him. “None of it will blow back on you. Only core members of my team even know I’m taking this meeting. As you said, you’re insulated. No one would ever suspect we had a sit-down with you.” I gesture to the restaurant. “At Disneyland no less. The only way anyone could find out is if Morelia narcs.”
D’ante snorts. “I’ve got more brothers in the joint than out. No man is so foolish to try to pull a move that like. Not one who values his life.” He pours more syrup on his plate. “In my line of work, the average life expectancy is twenty-two. I’m thirty-seven. The only way I’ve made it this long is because people know I’ll slit the throat of anyone who steps to me.”
The Disney characters move through the crowd and begin to exit. D’ante slips the jammer back in his pocket then turns to Gavin and chats about soccer with a big grin. Gavin goes with it smoothly, but I have whiplash. How does he do that? Go from gangster to Soccer Dad in a blink of an eye?
“Um,” I interject, “did we come to a conclusion?”
D’ante holds his fingers to his lips. “Shh. The man’s talking about when Pardew head-butted Meyler. Crazy ass shit right there.” He picks up his fork and knife and returns to his waffle, motioning for Gavin to continue.
We finish our meal, and Gavin picks up the check.
As we walk out, D’ante asks, “Why don’t you just disappear for a while? You’ve got the money; you can go to ground until these fuckers kill each other off. It’s only a matter of time. From what I hear, Oaxaca from down south is about to make a big play. They might do all the dirty work for you. Lay low for a few years until this becomes nothing but a bad memory.”
I shake my head. “They kept me tied up in a storage closet for four days and I just about lost my mind. They’ve held people in captivity for years. I can’t leave them. Especially the boy.”
He puts a toothpick in his mouth. “The kid of your cheating husband and a hooker? I can tell you right now my wife would not be as gracious as you are. She’d say fuck the devil spawn and the man who spawned him.”
I shrug. “The kid didn’t ask to be born, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to pay for the sins of a father he never knew. Plus, his junkie mother named him Arrow. His life’s going to be tough enough.”
“Arrow?” D’ante snorts. “That’s pretty damn bad. I’ve said it before—crack whores should be legally prohibited from naming children. It’s bad enough their mommas are on the rock, but to be stuck with a bad name too? Just cruel!”
“Precisely. Even if we take down Morelia, if we don’t make sure those people get to safety, another cartel’ll pick them up. I can’t let that happen.”
He grunts then slows his stride, falling back. I assume he wants a minute to think, so Gavin and I continue at our casual pace, strolling through the rustic lodge-style hotel lobby. By the time we reach the front door, D’ante is beside us again.
He hands his valet ticket to the attendant. After the man leaves to retrieve his car, D’ante says, “I’d never have made it as far as I have without Lorenzo. He used to visit me in the joint when he came to see Gio. He’s the one who told me to get my MBA, taught me how to develop legit channels and recognize emerging markets in urban areas. He didn’t give a fuck that wops hate niggas and vice versa. He just said, ‘If you’re rooming with my nephew, I might as well make sure you know a thing or two.’ He never had to do shit.”
“Zo was amazing.” I can’t help but smile thinking about him.
“The way they did him pisses me off. I’ll help you. And if your little plan doesn’t work, I’m taking them out myself.”
A tricked-out Navigator pulls up, and the attendant jumps out. “Here you go, Mr. Williams.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he says before hopping in his car.
While we wait for our car, I turn to Gavin and say, “If you’d never met me, you’d never be able to say you’ve had waffles with a gangba
nger at Disneyland.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “See how much I expand your cultural horizons?”
He chuckles. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Isaac pulls up to the valet stand, and we slide in the back. He turns around in his seat. “How did it go, sir? It’s nice to see you back in one piece.” Isaac hasn’t been shy about letting us know he thought this plan was ludicrous and unnecessarily dangerous.
I roll my eyes. “D’ante’s just a person like anyone else. He was polite and funny and charming.”
“Who wouldn’t pause to kill you if he thought you were a threat,” Isaac grumbles as he puts the car in drive.
“A. If someone was a threat to Gavin, you wouldn’t pause either, and B. I could never be construed as a threat.”
“I believe your current predicament proves otherwise.”
Knowing he’s looking at me in the rearview mirror, I narrow my eyes. “I used to like you.” I can only keep up that face for so long before I laugh. “You’re good people, Isaac. You’re fiercely protective of Gavin, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.” I take Gavin’s hat and put it on. “So, cowboy, are we hitting the town tonight? It’s my first night out of the house since… well, you know. We’re in LA, and I’ve got my spy wear on. Seems like we’d be foolish not to take advantage.”
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I was hoping we could stay in.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Gavin
When Gio presented his plan, I honestly didn’t know what to think. Why would his prison mate from years ago want to stick his neck out for us? At the heart of it all, organized crime is just a business. D’ante has nothing financial to gain from getting involved in our complicated affair, so why would he? Well, Bob’s my uncle, because he’s in.
His choice of meeting location was unconventional but clever. I have a feeling it was more about shock value, but Lily appreciated it. I think she felt safe knowing everyone would have to be on their best behavior in a room full of toddlers.
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